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[MashUp] Ch 10: What Is History?
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 16:51:59 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Afternoon — 2:30 PM.
Ichinose Academy. Final period: History.
Mafuyu Kirisu stood at the podium.
The room went dead silent.
No one dared nap. No one dared glance at a phone.
Every student sat up ramrod straight, their eyes "focused" on open textbooks, but their gazes empty, spirits elsewhere.
This was her class: a stagnant pool.
Normally she would snap, scolding until she forced order back into their heads.
But today… she stayed silent.
Finally, she began.
"Today, we continue with the Battle of Okehazama."
Her voice was flat, the words little more than recitation.
No reaction from below.
Fumino Furuhashi, known as the Sleeping Beauty of the Literary Forest, was already nodding off, head swaying.
Rizu Ogata, known as the Clockwork Thumbelina, frowned in frustration, trying to apply logical equations to history and coming up blank.
Mafuyu's chest tightened.
Of course. Sticking to the normal lesson plan wasn't working.
Her eyes slid toward another set of notes. The one he had marked up until it was barely recognizable.
Every reckless, arrogant scrawl mocked her stiffness as a teacher.
Especially the suggested opening line: {The madman who flipped off his destiny!}
A thought detonated in her mind.
So be it. Just once—go mad.
She inhaled sharply, then lifted her head. The look in her eyes had changed.
No longer cold, but resolute.
"Before we discuss the battle itself, let me ask you something."
Her tone had shifted, alive with a strange charisma.
"What is history?"
The class blinked at her.
"Is it dates to memorize? Empty names?"
She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
"No."
"History is choice."
The words cut like a blade.
"When Oda Nobunaga stood at Okehazama, he faced a question."
"Would he cower in his castle, let forty-five thousand men grind him to dust, and go down as a coward mocked for a thousand years?"
She paused, lowering her voice. "Or… would he become a madman."
"One who gambled every retainer, every villager, every shred of his own life… for that one-in-ten-thousand chance?"
"And in the end… he raised his middle finger to fate itself!"
The final words struck like thunder.
It felt as if the entire classroom's heartbeat stopped. Students jerked upright, eyes blazing.
Not with forced focus, but with genuine shock.
Fumino's eyes gleamed, entranced by the tragic romance of a hero.
Rizu clenched her pen, her mind racing with impossible equations of troop strength and probability—only to have her teacher deliver the most insane and yet simplest solution.
Mafuyu herself barely realized what she was doing.
She wasn't teaching. She was venting.
Venting the breakdown that man had dragged her into last night.
Had he too once faced a choice where the only option was to be a madman?
---
Meanwhile.
In the hallway, the flamboyantly coiffed Headmaster of Ichinose Academy sipped tea as he strolled.
Passing by Mafuyu Kirisu's class, he froze.
Something was off.
Usually, her lessons were either full of stern reprimands or dead silence.
But today's silence was different. A silence where every mind was hooked.
Curious, he peered in through the back window.
His teacup stopped in midair.
The famously rigid, ice-cold beauty who bored her students into collective imprisonment—
Was on the podium, radiant, magnetic, her words rolling with fire.
Below, her students leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity and awe. The principal's jaw fell open.
This… this was still Kirisu-Sensei?!
That stiff, stubborn fool… had actually woken up?!
…
The dismissal bell rang like a bucket of cold water.
Mafuyu blinked, suddenly aware again.
Her students still stared at her, stunned.
Flustered, she gathered her things and all but fled the classroom.
And then—
Class 2-F erupted.
"Wait—did I imagine that? Was that really Kirisu-sensei?"
"Class is over already? No way! It felt like it just started!"
"Unbelievable… I listened to the entire history lecture. Every single word. And I… I want more?!"
"Same."
Whispers swelled into an uproar.
They had no idea what had changed in their eternally icy teacher.
They only knew one thing.
From today forward, history wouldn't be prison. It would be the most anticipated story hour of the week.
…
Mafuyu stumbled into the staff office.
She collapsed into her chair, chest heaving, her cheeks still flushed from the intensity of her lecture.
A teasing voice drifted over.
"Congrats, Mafuyu."
It was Sato-sensei, the colleague who had suggested flats.
Sato carried a coffee cup, smiling slyly. "I passed by your class just now. The kids are practically exploding. They're calling it a 'god-tier lesson.'"
Mafuyu's heart skipped.
"I just… rambled a little."
Her gaze slid away, refusing eye contact.
"Is that so?" Sato's smile turned wicked.
She leaned closer, studying Mafuyu's face.
"Though honestly… you're glowing today. Even more than yesterday. Your skin's radiant, your eyes are shining, and your movements…"
She let her words trail, then deliberately glanced down at the flats.
Her grin widened, positively devilish.
She whispered by Mafuyu's ear, laughing softly.
"Looks like your boyfriend was very, very busy last night..."
"!!!"
Mafuyu's brain exploded.
That one heavily loaded phrase roared in her ears.
Her face burned crimson, the blush racing from her neck to her ears.
"S-Sato-sensei! W-what nonsense are you spouting?!"
She shot to her feet, voice cracking in outrage. Her ice-queen image shattered to pieces.
Sato laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. "All right, all right, I'll stop."
She waved a hand, retreating to her own desk, leaving only a playful silhouette.
"But with results like that? You'd better let him 'tutor' you a few more times. And take good care of him too. You can't feel good alone."
"Men like that… are rare. Very rare. So take care of him." She sighed dramatically.
"Take it from your senpai. Hard-won experience, you know."
The office quieted.
Mafuyu stood frozen, toes curling hard inside her stockings.
Her thoughts whirled back to that domineering man who had stormed into her life, her lessons, even her body—
That bastard.
.
.
.
